


Read Behind Closed Doors

by swoledor_clegainz, wtflommy



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU, Aged-Up AU, Dirty Talk, F/M, Love Letters, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-02-23 20:15:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13197732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swoledor_clegainz/pseuds/swoledor_clegainz, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wtflommy/pseuds/wtflommy
Summary: On Sandor's desk, lit by flickering candlelight, there lies a sheaf of letters; some cut and rolled and ready to send off to the Ravenry, but others...well, the others he keeps locked away from prying eyes.For after all, Dark Wings bring Naughty Words.





	1. Sandor I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wtflommy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wtflommy/gifts), [3rd_Degree_Arsan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/3rd_Degree_Arsan/gifts), [swoledor_clegainz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/swoledor_clegainz/gifts).



> This is a fantastic collaboration between wtflommy and I, gods bless her. This will be an open-ended, ongoing thing - so stay tuned!

* * *

_Arya,_

_I hope this letter finds you well, as I myself am on the cusp of insanity overseeing these green boys, attempting to keep peace between the wildlings and the black brothers as we steadily rebuild. It came to a head two nights ago, when some of the Giantsbane clan fought over a goat hind, and Tormund decided the best way to settle it was by having them fight to the death with a dragonglass shiv - which, for Tormund, (as you well know) was a very normal behavior. It did not, however, sit well with the Lord Commander, who was preoccupied with other in-fighting._

_He tells me there were no hard feelings from the Thens. Ha! They’ve been hanging about for a moon now, making eyes at the Giantsbanes, and I do believe all of us are ready and raring to see the back of them. I wish Beric and Thoros were still with us, seven bless them. They and their bloody band of merry men would have crowded them out within the fortnight, not to mention they were solid drinking partners; something not easily come by, here on The Wall._

_Qyburn, the slimy bastard, continues doing his ample best to burn the entire place to the ground, and has requested that he would very much like any ‘pieces’ of wight we may come across during reconstruction near Viserion’s Gate; especially so if it has come into contact with an Other. As to why in the seven hells there would be ‘pieces of wight’ simply laying about for the taking or how we would safely transport it back here to Castle Black, I only nodded and smiled that lordly smile I’m expected to flash at every bloke that begs my favor._

_The wolfhounds miss you something awful. They spend most of their time whinging and scratching at the door or here in my study, sitting on my boots so I can’t be arsed to move. I know what you will ask, and yes - despite the years of carefully training them to obey my every beck and whistle, I caved in at once and let them sleep on the bed with me. You have spoiled them beyond all repair, I fear._

_And speaking of the sort…I was thinking of fucking you last night, sweetling._

_Are you flushing red? Should I give you a moment to compose yourself before you read this? I do love the idea of you blushing and looking around like you’ve a guilty secret to hide….but we wouldn’t want anyone suspecting, would we?_

_I was thinking about that one heavenly evening at the castle, when you played about with my cock in your pretty little mouth and wouldn’t let me finish. You must have been licking and kissing for half an hour, sucking at the head and at that one spot underneath that makes me hot._

_Have I embarrassed you terribly, my little love? Do the Lords and Ladies surrounding you know what filth your husband writes to you in his letters?_

_Your remember that night I told you how good you were at sucking cock, ‘better than a Bravoosi whore’. And you acted cross with me about it, stopped giving me that glorious head you always give me and stood up. I apologized until you came round again. Did the look in my eyes betray me? Gods, I was mad with it. And I told you I’d go to the ends of the earth for you, seven hells, I’d do anything if you would just let me come…_

_That’s the bit there, the bit I was remembering last night. Had to stroke myself to finish, thinking about you on your knees, with those eyes, those soft little hands, that sweet little mouth around my cock._

_Are you all alone, sweetling? Have you skittered up the stairs, locked yourself alone in our chambers, in your little dress, all wet and bothered for your old dog? Are you touching yourself, moaning and sighing and keening for me? Wishing I was there?_

_I’ll be home soon enough. Keep warm in the nights, until I am there to do it for you._

_-Your Dog_


	2. Arya I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By wtflommy

* * *

_ My Dearest Dog, _

_Receiving your letter was the highlight of my day, and my evening, I must admit. However, dealing with Sansa’s prying eyes as I continued to read your words was interesting, to say the least. Thank the gods for that training with the mummers in Braavos. To imagine someone else reading these words does make me laugh._

_ Oh, how I miss the pups. I’m glad they are able to keep you company in my absence, but do try to not let them get fat! Do you take them north of the Wall at all? I have wondered from the moment Nymeria came into my arms how a direwolf ended up south of the Wall, but I’m forever grateful, however it came to be.  _

_ Sansa has insisted that I attend to duties about the castle as though I were the Lady of Winterfell. I remember enjoying it so much when I was a child, as father hosted men and listened to their concerns and stories, but now I find it all terribly boring. Is it so much to ask that I might help those silly boys in the training yard with their bow stance? Sansa says it’s not lady-like. Thinking of your words and what they made me do once I was safely locked within our chambers, was also not very lady-like, I’m afraid. _

_ Every night I think about you, my love. The feel of your strong arms holding me tight, the marks I’ve left on your chest, claiming you as though anyone else could get between us, your hands about me with such frenzy I’d have sworn you were a green boy. But you are not, my handsome hound, you have proven that time and again. _

_It must be quite cold still at Castle Black, but I see you are finding a way to stay warm other than the pups taking up your bed. Perhaps I can give you some more kindling for the flames?_

_ Remember that time in the broom closet, during Jon and Daenerys’ visiting feast? They’d traveled so far from King’s Landing and all either of us could think about was when we’d be able to touch each other once more. I think about it more than is likely considered lady-like, of that I am certain. Of course, you know I still insist I’m not a lady, even if I am now Lady Arya Clegane. Even thinking of that name gets me hot, thinking of how I’m yours, from that moment under the heart tree until our last. Gods, I miss you dearly.  _

_ But I digress. I do truly think of that broom closet, even at the most inappropriate of times. (Though I’d never tell Sansa where my head was when she tries to get my attention. Can you imagine her face? Oh, perhaps I should…)  _

_ I remember how you pulled me in there with no warning and hiked up the skirts Sansa insisted I wear as I protested your sudden advance in such a public place. I fought you, love, foolishly, as your strong hands made their way beneath my skirts. Dresses do come in handy for something, I suppose. When you want something, you are surely forceful and I love it. I remember the feel of your fingers, large and calloused as they went inside me as you kissed me deeply. Anyone could have walked by, and yet the moment you touched me, I could care less. I felt devoured by you, wholly consumed and I wanted nothing more. Had someone asked me my name, I’m not sure I would have been able to answer! _

_ Oh, how you claimed me in that dark pantry; pushing me against the wall as you tried your best to not rip all that silly fabric. I can still feel the cool, damp stone of the wall against my ass as you lifted my legs over your shoulders. But even more so, I still feel your tongue, that damnable mouth of yours, as it kissed a place only you know.  _

_ The whole castle would have heard me as you made me cum if it wasn’t for your hand over my mouth. Can you still see the scars from where I bit you? Another mark to claim you, my love. To be honest though, nothing felt as good as when you hastily untied your britches and plunged deep inside me, stretching and filling as waves of pleasure overcame me. Oh that feeling, that wholeness that only you could bring.  _

_ I wanted nothing more in that moment than to strip you of those winter layers, to see every powerful, taught muscle working as you fucked me against that cold stone wall. My skin was on fire, and I truly thought I might melt stone. Seven save me, I need to feel you inside me again. I need to feel your lips on my neck, your teeth grazing the goose-fleshed skin as you make those low grunts of pleasure in my ear. My skin is prickling just thinking of the sounds you make only for me. I need you to pull me tight against you as you finally reach your climax, to feel your seed hot inside me as it runs down my inner thigh. It’s a wonder I’m not with child yet. Perhaps that cunt in Braavos saw to that. _

_Are you touching yourself as you remember, love? I admit, I had to put the quill down as I recalled that night. My own fingers, running through my wet cunt, will never do what you do; but it will keep me warm until you return. Do the men around you know what the contents of this letter is; what you’ll do when you go off to your chambers?_

_ Seven hells, I’ve rambled on and now Sansa is calling for me again. She truly is like my lady mother reborn, I regret to say. Do give the pups a scratch behind the ear for me and write again soon. _

_ I miss you, _

_ Arya _


	3. Sandor II

* * *

 

_My little wolf,_

_Word arrives now from Winterfell, and the hour is late, but my thoughts all stray to you._

_Would that I were there now, beside you. I am no romantic, of course, you know this. I struggle even now to find words that fit, and the quill was never steady in my fingers as a green boy those years I spent pent up in the Maester’s ravenry. I have had…a lot of ale, I confess. A lot of ale. But I must tell you, the best I can, before the words fail me. _

_~~Lady Sansa can keep her notions of honor, and of shining armor; I am yours, Arya, dents and all.~~ _

_~~I love~~ _

_~~You’re beau~~ _

_Cold. Wolfish, they may describe you. They do not know your beauty, sweetling. How, overtime, it begins to exude a quiet, comfortable warmth that I believe no other could possibly convey in me. You give me a very real feeling. Raw, wild and all at once. As If I was part of something, something more. And I wonder if you knew, all along, how our story would go._

_Do you know how I feel for you, truly, my little wolf? Do you know how long I have loved you? Have I ever told you, has wine loosened my lips to some truth in all our travels? I have loved you since the day I took you from the battlefield, Arya, and washed the blood from your hands in the waters of the Green Fork. I would never say it then, as you cried in my arms. Could never say it. But I wished I could take it all away._

_So often I find myself marveling at the size of them. Your hands, so small and delicate in my own. So soft, and warm upon my skin. Smooth and white as alabaster stone…_

_I want you, sweetling. I need you beneath me, like the night of the tourney, when I climbed that blasted tower with you in my arms, desperate to be alone for one fucking second, hungry for one another's touch, wild with it. Those little hands I love so much fumbling with my belt, ripping your skirts and having you right there on the floor, and you were mine, mine, mine, all mine - and you were clinging to me like your life depended upon it, Seven Hells, so tight. _ _Gods, girl. Nothing compares to the sight of you keening beneath me, red in the cheeks, and your hair – gods, your hair – undone upon the pillow. And your mouth, your pretty little mouth whimpering my name, begging me for more. You slay me, girl, completely – no sword could be sharper than my name soft upon your lips - stabbed through the heart, entirely surrendered. And I wonder, as I often do, how someone so small could devastate me so, tear me down brick by brick, till I’m left breathless on my knees before her._

_I look in your eyes, and suddenly I know why they name maelstroms._

_You are kind, truly, for listening to an old dog's ramblings...I wish I was there to kiss you for it._

_Sandor_

 


	4. Arya II

_ San, _

_ The moment I believe you cannot possibly surprise me, you do, my love. A man’s words are truest through the grace of the drink, when he bears his soul with little worry for the consequences. But the only consequence of your words is my longing to hear you speak them, to feel your warmth, to kiss them from your lips. Gods, how much longer must this last? _

_ On your return, slay you I shall with your name upon my lips, stabbing your heart again and again. It was you who taught me where the heart was, so long ago in the war-torn ruins of the Riverlands. Perhaps you knew its true meaning when you told me. You did not think I had forgotten, did you? _

_Should that I might, I cannot fathom telling my younger self what you would become to me. Do you think she would have tried to cross your name off the moment she learned of her future? I smile at the thought. I would be a wholly different person than I am today without that time, but without that time, I would not have you. My silly, childish mind could not see what was before my eyes until it was too late. ~~ That is not to say those eyes did not stray in your direction when you bathed ~~ Yet, perhaps that was the way it had to be, so much time and distance between us until we were the people we needed to be, together once more._

_And darling dog, your dents are my favorite part. Every inch of you is so precious to me. The warmth of your eyes, which tells of a hard life passed but now looks newly hopeful to a future not filled with such hate and lies and pain. They are a window into your soul and a mirror upon which I see myself. Your faint smiles, those ones reserved just for me, which warm me with a glance across the room; oh, how I miss them so. You speak of my small hands, but it is your hands, whose size can encircle my waist from tip to tip, can lift and hold me close with ease, that are the marvel. Oh, the things those hands can do, those fingers of yours… To feel them touch me gently and not so gently, both outside and in, causes me to ache so._

_ I sometimes wish I were a minstrel so I could write songs about your tongue and what it does to me. My lowly words cannot begin to put into phrase the things your mouth makes me feel and how I long to feel it once more. What a sight to look down and see you looking up from betwixt my legs. To hold your gaze as your tongue runs along my most sensitive of places, claiming me and setting me alight at once. The way you make my legs shake with those ministrations, my hands in your hair, whispering your name with my eyes clenched shut. The whole castle will hear of your talents, if we are not careful, for my voice will carry upon these hard stone walls.  _

_ Oh, and at last, but certainly not least by any measure, that damnable cock of yours. Do you remember our first time? It pains me to this day to admit I was quite nervous as my hands pushed your trousers aside to grasp that hard, swollen length as best I could. Could you see my hands shaking, love? In an unusual bout of restraint, you took your time, showed me you could be gentle, loving, slow—that was, of course, until you knew I could handle it and you fucked me senseless! Gods, not only was I incapable of walking afterwards, I dared not try to form a coherent thought for some time either.  _

_Everything about you is on such a scale I have not known before and that delicious cock of yours is no different. I admit I am getting quite wet just thinking about it; how it somehow manages to stretch and fill me in the most perfect way every time we fuck. Seven hells, that beautiful thing… I long to kiss it gently, slowly, savoring every vein and curve with lip and tongue as though to put it to memory, but you were never a patient one, were you love? No, it would not be long before you were cursing in my ear as you pulled me back up to roughly take me, and I would have it no other way, quite honestly. _

_ Indulgence is not typically a sin of mine, but do not doubt my intentions to steal you away upon your return for days on end to relearn every scar, freckle and ripple of muscle on the body that feels like it was made just for me. We’ll greet the sun each morning after dancing beneath the sheets to the music of the moon, skin against skin, two halves made whole once more. Won’t you be my dance partner, lover?  _

_ Every moment of this separation gives me such heartache but know that I am holding you close to my chest, curled beneath the furs, all tangled limbs and whispered words. _

_ I miss you, Sandor, dents and all, _

_ Arya _


End file.
